


if i love you - is that a fact or a weapon?

by hanzios



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Nathan Miller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27434854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanzios/pseuds/hanzios
Summary: They’ve only been in this godforsaken bunker for 79 days, and Jackson has already gotten seriously hurt.OR: The one where Miller is a protective, caring boyfriend while Jackson is stuck on bed rest.
Relationships: Eric Jackson/Nathan Miller
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	if i love you - is that a fact or a weapon?

**Author's Note:**

> title is from a richard siken poem :)

Miller is buzzing at the fingertips, wanting more than _anything_ to punch the bastard who did _this_ to Jackson; but he can’t do that. Not now. Instead, he forces himself to calm down, gently reaching to touch his boyfriend’s unconscious face.

They’re at the bunker’s hospital ward, some of the beds empty. Clearly, it hadn’t been a particularly busy day, but all of Miller’s attention is focused on Jackson, filling one of the beds in the corner, asleep.

Abby had gone to tend to a patient right after patching up Jackson’s bleeding head.

The soldier tries to forget what had happened earlier that morning. A guard had called for him at his post in Level C, saying there was an emergency in Medical. It hadn’t taken long for him to reach the room, finding Abby and Niylah surrounding Jackson on the bed.

The blood was all Miller could focus on, wetting the side of Jackson’s head.

 _Someone came in and stole some antibiotics,_ Niylah’d said as she assisted Abby. _Attacked Jackson; he was probably in the way._

His anger had boiled at the mention of somebody hurting Jackson. But worry overtook him. Abby said there weren’t any damages to the skull, thankfully. He was just concussed. Still, Miller couldn’t help but feel his gut twist at the sight of Jackson looking like that.

Miller had been sitting beside him for a couple of hours now, waiting for him to wake up despite Abby’s insistence that he go and get some rest.

They’ve only been in this godforsaken bunker for 79 days, and Jackson has already gotten seriously hurt.

A soft moaning from beside him snaps Miller out of his intrusive thoughts. When he turns his head, Jackson’s face is tilting against his palm, eyes starting to flutter open. Miller leans forward.

“Hey, baby,” he coos, thumb stroking Jackson’s stubbled cheek.

“Na– _ow,_ ” Jackson attempts to sit up before wincing, allowing himself to be prodded gently to his back. “What happened?”

Suddenly, Abby is on the opposite side of the bed, a stethoscope dangling around her neck. She smiles warmly at Jackson.

“Glad to see you awake, Jackson.” She pauses before asking, “Do you remember anything that happened?”

Miller is slightly annoyed that she’s already questioning Jackson when he _just_ woke up, but a part of him also wants to know what happened. Maybe Jackson can even procure a name so the soldier could give the guy a surprise visit…

Jackson looks out into empty space before shaking his head slightly. “I’m sorry, I– It’s all kind of blurry right now…”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Miller says, his free fingers interlacing with Jackson’s. “You have to rest.”

“And by _rest_ ,” Abby says, making Jackson turn to her, “I mean _complete_ bed rest for _one week_. You’ll be staying here at Medical; your room is too far, and, well, we can’t risk you straining yourself. No mental activities for a few days, either. Which means no working, no reading–“

“I know how to treat a concussion, Abby,” Jackson interjects, his voice still weak. Miller smirks at that.

“It’s always doctors who make the worst patients,” Abby replies, her voice playful. The younger doctor’s mouth twitches upward.

After instructing Jackson (and mostly Miller) about the different medications the man needs to take, Abby leaves the couple alone, disappearing into the corner leading to the storage room.

Miller moves to half-sit on the bed, body twisting so he could look at Jackson fully.

“You had me worried for a second there,” he says, both hands now surrounding Jackson’s.

“Just a second?” Jackson manages to tease.

He rolls his eyes playfully. “Maybe more than that.” He doesn’t say that he’s been there for hours or that he felt tears stinging his eyes when he walked inside the room seeing Jackson’s head covered in red blood. “How are you feeling? And don’t say you’re fine.”

Jackson smiles at him. “Just hurts a little. I feel like I’m high.” Must’ve been the medication.

Miller raises his brows. “Ah. Not too bad, then.”

The doctor scrunches his nose, lowering his lids momentarily – a mannerism he’d learned from Miller. “Peachy.”

The other man beams for a few seconds before his face turns serious. “Look. I have to go talk to Octavia for a while, update her on the situation. The both of us are gonna find the _bastard_ who did this to you. Okay?”

Jackson winces at the word, but he nods slowly. “Okay.”

Miller leans to press a kiss on Jackson’s forehead, just below the bandages. “I’ll be back soon.” And with that, he leaves Medical, the buzzing on his fingers starting to crawl up to his chest.

+

“How’s Jackson?” Octavia asks the moment Miller strides into the office. She pushes herself off of the table she was sitting on, walking to him. Niylah’s on a chair near the table; they seemed to have been talking.

“He’s awake,” Miller says, swallowing his emotions. “He’ll… he’ll be fine.”

“Did he give up any names?” Her tone is authoritative. She seems to be asking more as the leader of Wonkru, not a friend.

Miller shakes his head. “He _just_ woke up,” he says, voice almost rising. He continues, “But I asked one of the patients. She said she was pretending to be asleep when the criminal attacked. _Azgeda scars_ , she said.”

“There are almost a hundred previously-Azgeda people in the bunker,” Niylah says from behind Octavia. Miller turns to her. “The pool is too big.”

Octavia nods. “We need to wait.”

Miller clenches his jaw, looking down at his feet. Octavia seems to notice this because she places a hand on his arm. “We’ll find the man who hurt Jackson,” she says, almost comforting but not quite. “He attacked one of the bunker’s only two doctors. I’ll see to it justice is served.”

Sending the man to the fighting pits would ease Miller’s spirit, but not entirely. He only nods, looking up at her.

“You can stay in Medical for the week, give your usual shifts to someone else,” Octavia offers. Miller raises his brows. She exhales, tilting her head, and says, “Just… make sure it doesn’t happen again. Keep an eye on Jackson, too.”

“Got it.” It’s not like Miller was planning on doing otherwise, anyway.

The three of them continue to discuss the situation further. At some point, Kane enters the room, and the conversation shifts to bunker logistics. Uninterested and itching to get back to his boyfriend, Miller excuses himself. Octavia promptly lets him go, but not without another firm assurance that the culprit _will_ be punished accordingly.

+

By the time Miller returns to Medical, the digital clocks read seven.

Jackson’s bed has been inclined so that he’s sitting, an overbed table beside him. When Miller nears, he finds an untouched bowl of soup on the table. He gives his boyfriend a pointed look.

“I can’t,” Jackson says in protest.

“ _Jax_ ,” Miller moves to the table, pushing it slightly so he can sit on the edge of Jackson’s bed. “You haven’t eaten since last night.” The other man doesn’t seem to budge, his brain probably still fuzzy. Miller touches his wrist. “Please?”

“Fine,” Jackson finally says, sighing deeply. Miller gives him a warm smile, grabbing the bowl. He scoops a generous amount of soup in the spoon and leans it to Jackson’s mouth. The man eats it, swallowing in one go.

“That was easy, right?” Miller teases.

“I feel like a child,” Jackson complains lightly. “I can feed myself.”

“I’d be a bad boyfriend if I let you.” Miller is already preparing the next spoonful, sending it gently to Jackson’s open mouth. “Besides, Octavia made me stay here until you’re healed. Not that I wasn’t gonna, anyway.”

Jackson frowns. “Nate, you don’t have to. Abby can take care of me, and–“

Miller silences him with another spoonful of soup, smirking. Once Jackson finishes swallowing, he scolds playfully, “ _That_ wasn’t fair.”

The soldier ignores the comment and instead says, “Let _me_ keep you company this time. Besides, if our situations were reversed, you would’ve done the same thing.”

“Because it’s my job,” Jackson says, a slight tick on the corner of his mouth.

“Well, I love you,” Miller says outright. He takes a scoop before looking at Jackson’s wide, softening eyes. “And that’s a full-time job, so.”

Jackson doesn’t seem to complain after that. He finishes his food quickly, the both of them filling each silence with light conversation. Abby exits the operating room in stained scrubs a little bit after that, saying she missed Jackson at the surgery, before disappearing to change.

“I can’t believe I can’t work for a week,” Jackson says after finishing a glass of water. “More and more patients come in every day, and I just have to sit here and do nothing.”

“Abby and Niylah and the other healers can handle it,” Miller says. “You deserve a break.”

“They do, too.”

“ _You_ have a concussion; _they_ don’t,” Miller reminds, moving closer. “Besides, I don’t think I’m _too_ bad for company. Could be worse.”

Jackson smiles at that. “Not too bad, at all.” He cups Miller’s face and pulls him close, kissing him softly.

+

Jackson finally got his memories back on the fourth day.

Apparently, the criminal had been the friend of a patient who came in for a migraine five days prior. He’d stolen more pain medication, probably memorizing which bottles to take from the last visit. Miller personally went to arrest the guy, an intense satisfaction wafting over him as he put the big man in cuffs, hissing “ _You hurt my boyfriend,”_ to his ear before throwing him into a cell.

The man was lucky Miller couldn’t kick his ass. Miller had restrained himself from throwing even a single punch, not for the guy’s sake, but Jackson’s. He knew his boyfriend wouldn’t approve of it, and, well, Jackson makes Miller a better man.

“Did you get him?” Jackson asks when Miller strides into Medical. The soldier simply waves the missing medicine bottles in his hand before handing them over to Abby.

“He didn’t take much,” Abby comments after peering inside the bottles. “Probably four or five pills.”

“So, what? He hits Jackson in the head with a rod for _four_ pills?” Miller asks, voice rising in frustration. His hands fall on his hips. Abby looks at him wearily, but it’s Jackson who speaks up.

“It’s fine, Nate,” he says. “I’m still alive.”

“He probably didn’t intend that,” Miller retorts, his head turning to Jackson. The two doctors exchange a look, Jackson nodding at Abby. Miller hears her walk away, but his attention is on his boyfriend. He stands firmly on the foot of his bed.

“If he wanted to kill me, he would’ve,” Jackson merely says.

“ _Why_ are you defending the guy?”

“You know why.”

Miller sighs, because he _does_ know why. Jackson has never liked the fighting pits. He thought it was barbaric: having people fight and kill for their freedom. As much as he could, the doctor didn’t go to the matches. He didn’t like Miller talking about it, either. It’s a sore subject for the both of them since part of Miller’s job is keeping the fighting pits alive.

Miller’s shoulders relax as his expression softens. He walks over to sit beside Jackson and reaches over to touch his face. “I was so worried when I saw you… I–I don’t know what I’d do if you died.”

Jackson places a palm over Miller’s hand. He smiles warmly, imploring Miller’s glassy eyes. “I’m _alive_ , Nate. And I’m _not afraid_ because I know you’ll always be here to protect me.” 

“I wasn’t, though,” he doesn’t see the point in stating the obvious, but he does so, anyway.

A pained noise comes of out Jackson’s mouth. Instead of talking, he grabs Miller’s face in his hands, pulling him towards him. His lips are as soft as it always is. Miller savors the kiss, a hand tenderly placed above Jackson’s heartbeat.

“I’m lucky I have you,” Jackson whispers into Miller’s mouth. “I love you.”

Miller’s heart fills with affection when he hears those words. He probably would never get used to Jackson saying them. He grins, their lips brushing at the movement before he leans in once again for another kiss.


End file.
